


Jacks and Jills

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:06:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29008761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: 'For every Jack, there's a Jill' -  It was an old saying, one many swore by, although Casino fervently disputed its veracity.  Somehow that topic just kept turning up, whether at the pub in Brandonshire, or during various discussions among the guys.  It even came up during a discussion by a nearby tableful of 'Jill's'.Well, maybe the saying is right - maybe for everybody, there IS somebody, even if you are a guy working on a Special Forces team.  Or, even if you are a spy.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. For Every Jack, There's A Jill

Everyone figured they'd make a match of it eventually, Private Dan Carson and Missy Beal. After all, two people more alike you'd never find, at least in some ways, neither one able to stop talking to save their soul, whether or not they were actually saying anything, and most times they weren't.

The whole village swore that, as bad as one was, the other was worse, and when you got them together, whether they were arguing or sweet-talking, you'd be wishing for a pair of earmuff to drown them out, or maybe a pan of water to toss over the pair. 

One thing the villagers agreed on. As Old Howie put it, "can't think of anyone who'd have either o' them, or anyone I'd wish either o' them on. They might as well settle down together and make each other miserable rather nor anyone else."

Still, there it was. Private Blue Dawkins, lanky, taciturn soldier from Kentucky, never known for using six words if two would do the job, though those two stretched out to take up more space than any other twelve would have done coming from anyone else, had shown up to do a specialty bit of work up at the Mansion, stumbled into Missy Beal at the housegoods store, and next thing you knew, banns were being read out and there was Dan Carson going around telling everyone he'd been jilted. He found Brandonshire so lacking in empathy for his woeful situation, and its residents so weary of hearing him expound on it, he took his occasional pub-going to Bayside. Before you knew it, Ginny Roberts, so shy as to barely say 'hello' if she met anyone on the street and that only at a whisper, took to consoling Dan after her shift was over at the Bayside bank, and next thing, there's another set of banns being read.

The whole village, including the guys up at the Mansion, thought it was hilarious. The discussion at their table started when Old Howie solemnly pronounced that old saying over his second pint. 

After two pints, the old handyman tended to wax philosophical, as everyone knew, and was well able to take any number of sides on any one issue. To those who speculated that, with that talent, he was wasted as a handyman, he should have gone into politics, he demurred, stating that he might be talented, alright but a life in politics just wasn't for him. "I'm an honest man, I am!" he protested whenever the suggestion was made.

"For every Jack, there's a Jill, least that's what I've always heard," Howie now announced staunchly. "Just thought it to be Dan and Missy, but turns out not. That's there's another two that would suit those two even better? Never believed it til now, but guess it just goes to show that old saying is true, no matter how unlikely."

Casino just couldn't let that bit of wisdom lay there; in fact, he found the whole idea a little offensive. Well, he'd just had his third beer and his second whiskey, which meant he needed to argue about SOMETHING, and nothing better came to mind. 

The others rolled their eyes, knowing quite well it wasn't the thing being argued about that was important, just that need to be difficult that came to Casino with a little too much to drink. They each had their own reaction to too much drink; that was just his, and probably no more annoying than their own. Not that they were going to tell HIM that, of course!

Chief, not being a heavy drinker by habit or by choice, on the rare occasions he did over-indulge, just got quieter than his usual, which was hard to watch, him pulling those boundaries in til you'd think there wasn't room left for a person inside. It left the others thinking they were talking to themselves, so he ended up getting shut out of any subsequent conversation, which really didn't help his sense of isolation.

Goniff tended to get loud, very loud; it seemed a cheerful sort of loud, but if you looked closer, there was often a ragged desperation there, enough that was hard to watch too. He was difficult to deal with when that happened. If you ignored him, he got belligerant in trying to make you pay attention. If you tried to jolly him along, play along, he would end up going way too far, doing or saying something he (and others) would regret later. Garrison could keep him in line, usually, sometimes just with a quiet word, a look, a hand on his shoulder. Surprisingly, so could the O'Donnell woman, but not really anyone else, at least not without doing more harm than good.

Casino, as said, he got argumentative, searching for a quarrel, and if not finding one to be readily available, a fist fight. Of course, that caused a goodly amount of harm as well, usually financial as well as physical, and not just for Casino.

Actor - well, truth be told, Actor pretty much stayed the same, still in lecture mode, though exercising a talent for emoting on topics of absolutely no interest to anyone in his audience, even more so than his usual selections. They would come away feeling he was being a real dipshit, parading his so-called superiority around; he would come away feeling he was perfectly justified in considering them ignorant, ill-educated and uncouth cretins. Like I said - pretty much the same.

Garrison didn't let himself overindulge around his guys. In fact, he'd been warned by a couple of kind and well-disposed ladies that he should avoid drinking too much at ANY time, in ANY company, since, according to them, he tended to talk about far too personal, far too sensitive things, things likely to bring trouble down on him if the wrong person was within earshot. He'd never quite dared ask either of the ladies - Julie Richards, Kevin Richard's sister, or Nellie from down at the pub - for specifics. 

The good side of having a few drinks more than his usual was that it let him sleep, never an easy thing for him. The downside, even if he made sure he was alone during that consumption and afterwards, and DID sleep, was that he dreamed, and his dreams - ah, his dreams! Well, except at the Cottage, and there it didn't matter; he was safe there no matter what odd things he might say.

Casino scraped his chair back noisily, gathering their attention. 

"Yeah, yeah. I've heard that old saying, 'for every Jack, there's a Jill'. Come on, give me a freakin' break! For some guys, that might be fine, but not for someone like me," and the safecracker preened like a peacock, looking far too satisfied with himself. "See, for someone like ME, all that's just bullshit. For the RIGHT Jack, the 'right Jack with the right pack'," Casino proclaimed with a knowing shake of his head and a wide smirk, "and that's me, sure enough - there's a whole BUNCH of Jill's, just lined up waiting their turn."

He'd gotten a shout of laughter from the guys, then some sound advice from Doc Riley, who made the wry comment that "a whole bunch of Jill's? That might sound just fine, Casino, though I have my doubts; that doesn't sound all that appealing. At least, that's what I'm going to swear if my Sheila gets wind of this conversation. But remember, JACK, even buying them a gross at a time, prophylactics can run into some real money. Not to mention, penicillin doesn't grow on trees!"

Casino had snorted with disdain at that bit of practical advice from the local doctor.

It had been much the same at Ben Miller's equally sound cautioning, "and you get caught up in all the possible Jills in the world, quantity versus quality, Casino, you might discover, even if you eventually FIND the right Jill, you might find the right Jill isn't interested in YOU anymore! Shop-worn goods aren't quite as pleasing to the discerning buyer, or so I've heard my lovely wife telling our Molly. Of course, I believe Alice was talking about dress goods, at least I think so, but the principle still applies." 

Well, Ben, the local constable, and his Alice had been together since he was nineteen and Alice was sixteen. He'd had his chances, had looked around at the various Jills, but he kept looking back at just one, and had never regretted his decision.

But, no, Casino knew best, and it looked to the rest of the guys like he had every intention on test driving every Jill he came across, at least those who met his broad qualifications, pun intended. That he WAS just test driving and had no intention of 'buying' at this particular time, if ever, just never came up in any of the conversations. Not being a dummy, he made damned sure of that.

Chief figured, from past observation, the list of possible Jills being test driven included about 90% of the women Casino came into contact with, at least those over sixteen and under thirty-five. 

The first prohibition was only smart, jail-bait being just flat out dangerous for any number of reasons, including the likelihood of a shotgun being involved, as well as a preacher, though opinions varied whether that would end up in a graveyard or in front of an altar.

The second, well, Casino's explanation for that would have driven any number of women to slap him upside his head. One Jill, otherwise known as Jennifer, who'd had him wiffle on a date after learning she was eager to go out and really celebrate the night away, the next day being her thirty-fifth birthday, did exactly that. As she explained to her roommate in a huff, "changed his tune real fast! Seems he was fine with having some fun but all of a sudden he was 'on call', had to leave by ten or so. Easy enough to see what was going through his mind! Was like he thought my tits were going to collapse to mush at the stroke of midnight!"


	2. Greedy Jack

Now though, having a drink at a little pub near HQ, (not Silk's, since that establishment was enduring one of its periodic mandatory shutdowns due to a bloody brawl, and no, the guys had NOT been involved, not that time anyway), the subject crossed more than one of their minds. Well, how could it help from doing that, with all the bitching Casino was doing?

Last night it seems the current Jill, actually named Constance, not that Casino remembered her name if he'd even caught it in the first place, had found fault with the Mighty Jack, aka Casino, and hadn't been shy about letting him know all about it. Casino had even showed up back at the hotel a little after midnight, not the next morning as could have been expected, and none too happy either. To his teammates' amusement, he was still a little sulky when he recounted the whole debacle over a drink the next night.

Chief leaned back, just a tiny smile on his face as he listened to Casino bemoaning that evening that had gone so, soooooo wrong. Oh, not from the beginning; that had started out promising enough, at least for a spur-of-the-moment pickup. But by the end of the evening, the disconnect had escalated all the way to the safecracker's abrupt ejection from the woman's flat still trying to get his pants fastened.

Chief didn't know why he was smiling, but just hearing all that made him feel - well, it made him feel pretty damn good, actually. Maybe it wasn't the thing a buddy should admit, getting a kick out of another buddy falling flat on his face like that, but damn, it DID feel good!

First, Casino had promised to spend the time with HIM, visiting that metalworking shop that specialized in the kinds of personal armament that only another specialist, or maybe a collector, would appreciate. Then they'd planned to have dinner at a little place that had just opened up in place of that overly-dainty sandwich shop that had gone out of business. Goniff had told them about that, enthusing rapturously after one such meal, "Italian, just like you'd like, Casino! Even knows to put in enough garlic, not like some!" Then they'd planned to have a couple of drinks, some quiet guy talk, just shooting the breeze and enjoying the time together.

Chief had been looking forward to that, but then, just leaving the hotel room, down in the lobby, that tall blonde had walked by. Like a bird dog on a scent, Casino was gone with hardly more than a fast "catch ya later, Indian. Maybe". Oh, yeah, other than that quickly fading voice, sounding an eager and confident, "Hey, Babe! Where've YOU been all my life??!"

Chief had been left standing there like a fool, blinking to realize he was now alone, watching that door swing shut. He'd firmed his lips, headed out to Marek's on his own, determined not to let Casino's being a jackass ruin his free time.

So, yeah, knowing Casino had received little satisfaction from that blatant abandonment, that felt justified.

Then, that open book he'd noticed laid out on the counter in Marek's workshop, that made him feel a little better too. Again, whether it was that another guy would be looking at something like that, not seem hung-up over being seen looking at something like that, he wasn't sure. Maybe it was that Marek had noticed his interest without any sign of disapproval or even taking it the wrong way, not like it was a intro to a come-on, which it sure as hell hadn't been. Seeing his interest, though, Marek had flipped through the pages, stopping whenever he caught a hint of interest. Chief appreciated that, the not having to verbalize all that much, and the matter-of-fact way Marek had translated the descriptions printed under the illustrations Chief had shown a little MORE interest in. Maybe those illustrations had inspired his dreams, his fantasies, or at least fleshed them out some. 

And when Casino was bemoaning how reluctant his Jill had been to put some of that into practice, and then after she'd finally agreed, how lacking in skill this particular Jill was in one particular activity, Chief found himself wondering how his own skills in that department, imaginary though they might be at this point, might stack up. He decided with a little practice, he could probably make Casino's eyes cross. That faint smile increased just slightly as he contemplated that mental picture. 

Of course, he wasn't interested in getting in any of that practice with anyone EXCEPT Casino, but still, could be Marek would be willing to answer a few questions anyway. For that matter, probably Goniff could too, at least in theory, and Actor - well, Actor seemed to have answers to just about ANY question, so that might be a source too.  
Actor, of course, didn't know when to stop lecturing or when to let a subject drop, so that ruled him out as the source of a lot of stuff Chief might be curious about.

At least Goniff didn't pretend to have all the answers, though he knew a hell of a lot more, with a hell of a lot wider range, than most people would ever give him credit for. Actually, Goniff kinda liked it that way, told Chief it gave him all kinds of an advantage sometimes, what with people tending to underestimate him.

Of course, he knew he could ask Goniff just about anything and not shock or upset the man. Goniff just seemed to take everything Chief could come up with, no matter how unexpected, in stride. Would probably do like he had with a bunch of other stuff before, just shrug, nod, give what answers he could, or might point him in the direction of a source he could trust for knowledge beyond what the pickpocket had, though maybe issuing a few warnings, a caution or two. And then he'd not bring up the subject again unless Chief did. 

And no way in hell he was gonna ask Garrison anything of the sort! Even if he turned things around, made it seem like he was maybe asking something other than what he was really asking, he wasn't going to risk it. The man treated him like an adult, like Chief knew what the hell he was doing; he wasn't going to show the level of his ignorance, especially about something that personal! 

And, of course, no matter how eclectic Casino's choice in reading material might be, all those mags, Chief knew even mentioning such a thing to Casino would cause him to rear back, eyes wide and ears flared back in alarm, probably either clam up entirely or avoid even being in the same room for awhile. {"Yeah, kinda like a Jack at that; stubborn, spooks easy, skittish as hell when it comes up against something it wasn't expecting,"} he thought, remembering one or two Mammoth Jacks he'd run up against while working as day labor on a farm once.

It was Garrison who, coming up and listening to part of that before starting the usual dressing down they'd more than earned, dryly reminded Casino, "the saying is 'for every Jack, there's a Jill', Casino. I don't recall ever hearing it said 'for one Jack, there's EVERY Jill'. Even YOU have to strike out sometimes!" 

"Seems some Jill's might even get confused meeting up with someone like that, some 'Greedy Jack', maybe thinking they're coming up against the kind of long-eared stubborn-ass Jack that goes around making hee-haw noises. Not naming names, of course!" Goniff added solemnly, though with a twitch showing a grin was just fighting to get out. Chief barely refrained from laughing, considering how close that had been to his OWN thoughts!

"Yeah, yeah," Casino grumbled, a sullen pout on his face, feeling he wasn't getting nearly the sympathy he deserved. "You ain't got nothing to add, Indian, other than keeping that smirk on yer face?" he asked defiantly. 

The kid had been far too quiet, not even calling him on the carpet like he coulda done for Casino just waltzing away like that. Yeah, Casino felt a little bad on that score, especially since the evening had gone to pot like that, but what the hell was he supposed to do? Pass up a hot broad to spend time with Chief? So, looking back, he woulda had a better time, if not the same kind, but how was he supposed to have known that at the time? Wasn't like he had a freakin crystal ball! Sheesh!

Chief just gave him a bland look from under hooded eyes. "What's to say, Pappy? It's like you're playing 'where's the penny' on the streets. You watch the shells, think you know where the prize is sitting. You turn over the shell, draw a blank, that's on you," he shrugged. "Don't go asking around 'what the hell happened??' expecting everyone to feel sorry for you. So maybe you just aren't watching the shuffle as close as you need to. Maybe you're playing the game wrong. Hell, maybe you're even playing the wrong game, watching the wrong dealer - maybe even going for the wrong prize. Like I said, that's on you, no one else."

Casino just stared, gape-jawed, before he finally replied. "I think you've been hanging around the Limey too long, kid. Sometimes you don't make any more sense than he does!"

Goniff looked at Casino, back at Chief, then back at Casino. Shaking his head, he snorted. For his part, he thought Chief was making PERFECT sense, at least once you thought about it. {"Of course, Casino never 'as been much of a one for thinking, at least w'en 'e don't feel like it,"} he admitted.

Garrison shook his head sternly at the whole lot of them. "Never mind Jack and Jill, or the rest of Mother Goose for that matter. Just what the hell were you guys thinking??! That no one would notice? The gallery owner takes inventory every day before locking up, and he was on the phone to me right after you left! No, do NOT tell me it was 'just practice'! I do NOT want to hear that! I want it back, now, tonight! And another thing . . ."


	3. But Is There A Jack For Every Jill?

While the guys were having their rollicking conversation, across the room there was another round table, this one with four young women seated there. 

"For every Jack, there's a Jill. That's what I've always heard, anyway, so you'd think it would work the other way around! But you sure couldn't prove it by me," Debbie sighed mournfully. 

The four friends had been going through a long spell of meeting frogs versus princes, and had come together to share their misery in a place they thought maybe they'd spot one of those elusive creatures - the latter, not the former. They'd seemed to be quite proficient at finding the former without trying at all; it seemed like it was a really good year for the frog population!

Well, that was Debbie's goal anyway - a prince, a small palace (or at least a small cottage or tidy flat) and all the things that went along with that. The other three just wanted a night out and a decent pint or two without having to ward off one of those said frogs. Claire had dryly informed them that while she didn't know about the rest of them, "I'M starting to worry about getting warts!"

"Well, if that's true - I mean, if 'for every Jack there's a Jill' - considering some of the Jacks I've met, all I can say is, poor JILL!" Margaret, their established leader, if they had such a thing, commented.

"Oh, Margaret!" Debbie scolded gently. "You take everything so literally. I just mean, if for every Jack, there's a Jill, you'd think it has to work in reverse, wouldn't you? For every Jill, there's a Jack? Why is it so hard to find one?"

Margaret pressed her point, sipping from her half-pint of beer, "there's no problem finding Jacks, Debbie. There's one around every corner. Just depends on what kind of a Jack you're looking for, whether you find one you like, one who's worth having. To my mind, there's plenty out there that aren't worth the having in the first place. Most remind me of the jack-asses my granddad had on his farm. You know, male donkeys. Though at least those are useful and can be fairly good company, unlike some of the human kind."

The others laughed, but Debbie, the youngest of the four women, looked aghast at that blunt assessment.

"Well, I have to agree, at least somewhat," Claire said with a knowing look over at the table of four laughing men, the trim young officer standing over them, hands on his hips, scolding them for something or other. "Maybe even the ones that aren't THAT bad, well, not every Jack deserves a proper Jill! Take those guys for instance! I think any sensible Jill would need to have her head examined before trying to latch onto one of them."

"What on earth do you mean, girl??! Lieutenant Garrison and his crew??! Look at them! I mean, WOW! There's not one I'd kick out of bed for eating crackers; in fact, there's at least one or two I'd be willing to spring for the crackers!" Linda scolded laughingly, never one to turn her eye away from such an appealing sight as that. They were not much alike, those five men, not in looks, not in a lot else either, but every one of them had more than a little appeal, and depending on your individual tastes, each as tempting as a hot fudge sundae with all the trimmings.

"Yeah, and if looks were everything, I'd agree," Margaret conceded. "But, those four? Well, all five, really! Oh, they're good, alright, real good, I've heard, but I have friends who've spent time with a couple of them, and could I tell YOU stories!"

And she did, and there were gasps, and indignant looks, along with a few wistful ones, of course.

Debbie was still lost in the rainbow dreams left over from her girlhood, not so long past, her just edging up on her twentieth birthday. "But you say they ARE quite, well, GOOD . . ." and she blushed winsomely. She was still figuring out what that 'good' really meant, but she wasn't going to let the others know that. She was very conscious of being the youngest and the least experienced. Still, 'good' just had to be, well - GOOD, right? As opposed to 'bad', anyway.

Margaret snickered, "oh, if all you're looking for is a good time for one night, yes they all ARE, including the Lieutenant from what I heard from SOMEONE, though I have to wonder if she really knows or is just talking. I certainly wouldn't turn any of them down, not if that's what I was in the mood for. But don't expect them to call afterwards. For that matter, don't expect them to even recognize you if they pass you in the hallway a week later! OR remember your name! They might, they might not, but don't pin your hopes on it, either part. Especially with Casino and Actor, not that Actor would lower himself to someone on our level. He's all for the 'laaa-dies', you know," she'd laughed, giving that word a very la-di-da tone. "And those guys - even while they're THERE, sometimes they're NOT really; I mean, THEY are, and likely busy enough at the job, and there's no doubt they know their way around THAT part of things, but having their mind, even their full attention involved? That's debatable."

Debbie blinked, not sure how a man could BE there but NOT be there, all at the same time, especially during such an engrossing activity. It certainly never happened in those romance novels she had such a fondness for.

The others, though, they understood. They'd been in that situation, even on the other end a time or two themselves, when things had gone a little too far to easily call it quits, but also far enough to really wish they had, really would prefer NOT to be there. Sometimed DID pretend they weren't there. 

Linda explained to a wide-eyed Debbie, "it's called the 'lay back, close your eyes, and think of England' approach, dear, at least for us. For them, it's probably more of a 'gotta itch, gotta scratch it, gotta itch, gotta scratch it, one, two, three, four, only half a dozen more!'" she grunted in a low deep imitation of a male voice. "Or something like that," and she snorted, remembering one guy who'd actually been muttering exactly that under his breath. {"Definitely a frog!"}

Claire laughed. "As far as Lieutenant Garrison is concerned, if you're talking about Samantha Bishop and her sly hints and everything else she was saying, if you want my opinion, she's lying through her teeth! She was just trying to make that boyfriend of hers over in Statistics jealous. She was really hoping he'd get all fired up if he thought he had some serious competition; maybe pop the question and stop lollygagging around about it. That backfired on her fast enough, the boyfriend not so eager to 'battle for her favors' with someone from Special Forces, especially someone like Lieutenant Craig Garrison. She got pissed when he told her that, and told him off, and he TOOK off, so now she's looking around for someone else, and good luck to the conniving little minx."

Debbie gasped, and Linda raised a questioning brow. "She was lying? Not that I would put it past her, but why do you think so?"

Claire smiled a wicked smile, "I asked him," relishing the shock on their faces at that bold statement. They might be bold, in varying degrees, but there was bold and there was bold, and that really did push the envelope!

Then she relented, "well, sort of. The day she was raving about him, how 'utterly delicious' he was in bed, how the night before had been 'absolutely sublime!', I was delivering some papers in the Special Forces area. He was coming out of Major Richards' office, looking like he'd been in a fight with a dozen guys, and not just that morning either. Some of those cuts and bruises had to be several days old, you know, with that motley look they get.

"So I went all concerned and sympathetic, asking if he'd been in an accident on the way to HQ that morning. He'd laughed, assured me he hadn't, was fine, really, that the injuries were healing.

"Major Richards, he came to the doorway, and HE reminded me in that stiff way he has that "Lieutenant Garrison is hardly at liberty to discuss his assignments, Miss Johansen; you should know that. And considering how long he's been gone and has just gotten back, I think it best you not delay him with idle conversation. I'm sure he has a hundred things awaiting his attention; I am equally sure he is longing for clean clothes and probably the first decent meal he's had in . . . ". And then HE stopped, huffed at me, and went back inside, when he realized he'd just told me far more than I'd asked in the first place! It's amazing how stiff people can be about keeping things quiet, then they turn around and just let all sorts of things drop, just in general conversation!

"Anyway, the Lieutenant just excused himself, told me his men were waiting for him, but that the Major was right, they ALL were looking forward to a decent meal and a couple of days sleep. So, you see, he COULDN'T have been with Samantha the night before!" she finished triumphantly.

"Well, I think that's just dreadful!" Debbie said indignantly. "To just make up a story like that!"

Linda, the practical one, just shrugged. "Yes, but at least she gave him good reviews. There are so few reviews out there on him in the first place - none, really, that I can think of, other than hers and a couple others I don't trust anymore than hers - that it would be a real shame if she'd panned him, just to put the knife in that boyfriend of hers or get the poor desk jockey all riled up."

Margaret brightened up. "Maybe we should do something about that. The reviews, I mean; it's not like it'd be a chore or anything. He's really good looking, seems nice enough. We could see if we couldn't get some proper reviews out there. Of course, they'd have to be for real, but how much effort would that take? A guy isn't likely to turn down a friendly invitation, is he?" she suggested in good humor. 

She wasn't sure that was true, not with that guy; she'd seen quite a few personable ladies bomb with that particular man, but she DID think it would be great fun to try. Besides, she had a glimmer of an idea, one that just might be worth considering.

Linda laughed and shook her head. "Good luck with that, sister. I agree I'd not mind seeing him curled up on the other side of my bed, but you're thinking of him like Casino and Actor - a hound eager for the chase. To my mind, he really IS what I've heard a few refer to him as - more of a cat. Independent and not inclined to walk on anyone's leash even if there's a treat waiting at the end of the jaunt. I've seen that, you know. Someone reaching out her hand, motioning 'come here, sweetie,' thinking he'll jump at the chance, him giving her that cool green-eyed look, just watching, careful, not hissing or spitting, but giving the impression it wouldn't be out of the question if that hand gets too close. And just like a cat, he doesn't have any inclination toward fawning over anyone; I know I'd be terribly flattered if he decided to pay special attention to me, even for an evening."

Debbie giggled at that notion. "So, the lieutenant's a cat, Casino and Actor are hounds. What does that make Chief and Goniff? Are they hounds too?"

"Now that's a good question," Linda pondered. "I admit they have some of the same characteristics, but not enough to write it on their bill. Still, just what in the animal kingdom seems to fit, I haven't quite made up my mind, though I've narrowed it down."

Margaret nodded her head; she could understand that hesitation. "Well, with Chief, I'd say maybe he's an eagle, maybe a hawk. Gorgeous, of course, but aloof, and dangerous enough to make you wary of making a wrong move. All those sharp claws, you know. And Goniff, I've heard Casino claims he's half monkey and half squirrel and all mouse, though none of that sounds very attractive, and he IS, attractive I mean. And nice too, I think. At least I've seen him smile at a few of the girls and thought it SEEMED like he would be nice. A lot of fun, probably."

"Well, I can see the hawk or eagle for Chief, maybe, but I think they're both canines, or at least in that family," Linda said with a thoughtful frown. "Back home, in Montana, I've seen some other members of the canine family, other than dogs, I mean, and I can see them fitting in there quite nicely."

"What else IS there?" Debbie asked. She wasn't a city girl, but still, canines, to her, meant dogs, most likely the lap-sized ones like her sister had, or hunting dogs like her father had. Linda had already said they weren't hounds, and whatever these guys were, they certainly weren't lap dogs!

"Wolves, foxes, even coyotes; neither of them is a hound, or any type of dog. Not nearly so harmless as that. Only half-tame, either of them, if that much, I'd say. Smart, cunning. Able to blend in, almost, if they make the effort, but you can't go mistaking them for Old Rex or Fluffy-kins, not unless you're really not looking. Or unless you don't know what to look for, I guess," she admitted, realizing not everyone had experience with much other than Yorkies or pugs or hunting dogs. "But I can tell you one thing, any collar you think you see on either of them, it's one they're wearing willingly, and even then, I'll bet there's a trick to the latch, one they can pop anytime they want."

Claire stared. Linda was just a font of knowledge sometimes, but sometimes she did get awful fanciful. Still, this was kinda fun, imagining what kind of animal a guy would be under the skin. Other than frogs - she'd met far too many frogs; maybe it would be interesting to meet a few OTHER kinds of creatures. "So, okay, I can maybe see that with Chief, but GONIFF? Why??"

"Watch his eyes, Claire. They're hardly ever still, always watching every movement, every shadow. When he looks at you, it's direct enough, but it's like there's someone, someTHING else underneath watching too. And once or twice, when someone's braced them, those blue eyes just turn to ice. I saw a wolf with eyes like that once, in the mountains. Just standing there, twenty yards above me, staring, deciding - well, who knows what - who I was, what I was, how it was going to deal with me. I just knew I needed to stand perfectly still, til it made up its mind whether I was just an annoying trespasser or a potential dinner. I think I'd be just as cautious with Goniff as I was with that wolf."

All four women turned to look at the table with the four men rising in response to Garrison's determined chivvying. 

Debbie sighed, drawing the men's attention as they moved past.

"Nice looking broads, Lieutenant," Casino enthused, not even bothering to wait til they were out of earshot. "You sure we have to leave now? Bet they'd get real friendly if we offered to buy them a drink. That blonde, she's got a real good build to her too."

"Move it, Casino," Garrison sighed. If they stopped to let Casino get friendly with another possible Jill or two or four, this could take all night.

At the door, the five men glanced back at the table, the four young women returning their gaze. 

{"Eager and on the prowl, that's Casino, and even Actor has that look; even if we aren't one of his 'ladies', I have a feeling he might be willing to make an exception for someone who at least had the mannerisms. Chief more aloof, more dangerous than I'd want to take on if I wasn't absolutely SURE. Goniff - Linda's right. There's something there, something you might miss if you take those blue eyes at face value. And Lieutenant Garrison, while I have no doubt after just that one fast glance he could describe us to the nth degree if need be, there also wasn't even the nth degree of personal interest there."}. 

Claire rather thought that a shame, since they all WERE very attractive, particularly the lieutenant, but she had enough sense of self-preservation not to fight the sense of danger she felt there. Luckily, so did the others; well, other than Debbie, and the others would try to keep her in check til she got a little more town polish. Though, with Debbie, privately they wondered if that would ever happen.

Margaret sat back, looking thoughtfully at the closing door over the rim of her glass. Finally she offered that interesting little thought that had occured to her.

"Still, the idea of a review - well, maybe a whole set of reviews. That's not a bad idea, you know. Well, it's not like THEY don't do it, although theirs isn't called anything so formal. Most of the time, it's just a nod and a wink, an elbow to the ribs along with a laugh, or a bit of bragging over a drink with the other guys. Sometimes it's just a scrawl on the bathroom wall. We'd want something much more dignified. And we'd want to focus on the men working on the Special Forces, Special Ops teams. The regular military guys might be easier, but you know how the brass would bluster around with anything like that; none of those working out of HQ at all, except for the Specials. None of the senior officers seem to care all that much for the Specials; probably wouldn't even notice. Besides, the Specials seem like they'd be just that, 'special', you know?" 

A look of anticipation had them each realizing she wasn't just talking but was seriously considering the notion.

Claire stared. "Do you have any idea the trouble we'd get into? Never mind the brass! Some of those guys are seriously dangerous!"

Linda snorted genteelly. "Claire honey, don't let them fool you! ALL of those guys are seriously dangerous! Still - okay, Margaret, what do you have in mind? And Debbie, hon, close your mouth; you're going to attract flies."

Debbie didn't quite manage that trick before Claire and Linda joined her in that pursuit. Well, the idea of a small private publication? One where the title page would clearly say - 'His Middle Name Is Danger!' - A Comprehensive Guide To The Men Who Can Honestly Make That Claim??? It really WAS a bold and innovative idea. One that, after another couple of drinks, seemed to have considerable merit.

And so a plan was formed, including getting a few other friends involved. That guide to men who could honestly proclaim 'danger is my middle name'? It was well on its way.


	4. Jack and Jill

"Hey, shug, I'm back. Did you miss me?" Margaret coo'd to the man sprawled on her sofa.

He grinned and held out his arms. "What do you think? It's not that I mind your Girls' Night Out excursions so much, but . . . Well, maybe I do, when it means I don't get to spend the time with you," he admitted.

She smirked, perching on his knee and twirling one lock of his lovely blond hair around her finger. "I know, but just wait til you hear what I've thought up, Jack; it's a real doozy, and I've already got the girls involved."

He sat up sharply, frowning. "You haven't told them about us, about our plans??? We can't take any chances!"

"Oh, silly, of course not! They'll be INVOLVED, alright, but they won't KNOW anything, not really. What they think they're going to be doing is a lot different than what they really WILL be. And the best thing? If anyone catches on to the cover story and makes us pull the plug, we may get a scold but no one's going to ever guess what's really going on!"

He looked at her suspiciously. She was very, very good at what she did - he knew that. But she sometimes got overly-ambitious, and that sense of humor did lead her into some odd pathways. 

Somehow he never expected what lay beneath the surface of that 'girl next door' image she presented. Until he'd teamed up with her, he thought undercover agents were supposed to be grim, serious, to-the-death individuals devoted only to getting the job done. WIth Margaret, it turned out there were laughs and fun and hi-jinks along the way, even if the result was the same. 

"And what IS to be going on, really?" Jack asked, watching that merry contagious smile his lady-love was known for at her job in London HQ. She should have had a dozen hands for all the clueless people she had wound around her busy fingers! Yep, Margaret Smith of Hallston Groves, Kansas, was one clever and enterprising young woman!

"What do you think our employers would think about an in-depth review of the agents on the Special Forces and Special Operations teams? Oh, not just the basic stuff from the files, or gossip, though we'll include that, of course, but the real skinny? Obtained from a bevy of ladies willing to 'give their all' in the pursuit of developing a detailed guide of those men - all in the way of smoothing the way for their fellow ladies, of course. Totally selfless, of course, and if they get a good roll in the hay in the meantime, well, since that wasn't the MAIN motivation, who could blame them.

"Just think, Jack! Everything from who drinks what and maybe how much and who talks too much when they do. Who has what talents - including those NOT included in the official files. Who might have a few little habits that might leave them a little vulnerable. Perhaps pick up a handwriting sample or two, perhaps find out a little about the families they left behind. 

"Believe me, there are girls, and not just the ones I was with tonight, but others, willing to encourage and listen to pillow talk, and bring everything back to me. Well, I volunteered to be the one in charge of pulling all that together and getting the word out, all so no poor unsuspecting girl gets led astray - unless that's what she's hoping for, of course!"

Jack stared, frowning thoughtfully as he considered the possibilities. Then a smile slowly came to his attractive face. "That just might be very helpful, might open any number of possibilities. You come up with the most delightful ideas!"

She admitted with a coy shrug, "that wasn't mine so much as my mother's. You would have - well, perhaps not LIKED my mother, Jack, but you would have respected her. She was a very knowing woman, which I have always found a very appropriate way to think of her. It's a pun, you see.

"My father had a saying 'It's not what you know, but WHO you know.' He used that to explain his inexplicable failure at just about everything he ever attempted. Someone else KNEW someone, so THEY got the job or the promotion. The guy he'd ticked off last summer KNEW the banker, so when father needed an extension on the mortage, he got turned down. It was always something like that. 

"We would have really been in a mess if it wasn't for my mother. Somehow, every one of his failures turned around in the end, due to my mother, which he never realized, though it did lead to ANOTHER of his sayings, 'it all turns out alright in the end, kitten, for those with godly thoughts in their hearts!'. 

"She explained to me, after one such episode, that while my father was right in that saying, the first one anyway, he stopped too soon. She told me there was another part. That, yes, 'It's not what you know, but WHO you know - but in the end, it's WHAT you know ABOUT who you know!' She knew everything about everyone, made sure of that, and oh boy, did she have the ways! And when the time was right, she'd remind them of that, what she knew, and things just seemed to turn in her direction, thus my father's SECOND favorite saying."

"A review - all their little habits, weaknesses, connections - I can think of any number of ways that could be useful," Jack admitted, though adding "it won't work for long, not at THAT place. Someone will talk, say something - someone will start think too deeply. Then they'll yank the plug."

She nodded, unconcerned. "Oh, I know. And even though I only intend to ask certain of the girls to 'help' with the Guide, still others will hear of it, of course. And there are some really sharp cookies up there, whether some of the guys want to believe that or not. 

"No, it won't last long, Jack; at least I wouldn't think so. But just think! All of those lovely tidbits gathered, though not all will go into the Guide, of course! After all, some things will be helpful to US only if not too many OTHER people know about them. And if anyone protests, "but you didn't include THIS, and I thought it was one of the best things!", I simply tell them, in a big-sisterly but very gentle and firm way, that it seemed perhaps a little too personal or something. 

"That way, if - well, WHEN - the biggies get wind and start scolding, I can go all big-eyed and innocent, maybe with a few tears, that "we would NEVER have put anything really IMPORTANT in there, nothing that anyone could USE in the wrong way! We just wanted to be sure no one ended up in the kind of mess BECKY did, in the family way, then finding out her 'true love' had a wife and kiddies back home AND half a dozen girl friends besides!

"And what is really lovely - it won't take much effort on my part! I'll continue on with the REST of my job - well, jobs - while the others gather all the goodies and drop them in my lap! A little sorting, a little editing, and away we go!"

He still did have a few concerns. "And if one of your 'investigators' gets wise, maybe starts to talk a little too much herself?"

Margaret's smile didn't dim, her eyes remained just as bright. "Then, sadly, she might find one of those 'dangerous men' are just that. Or at least, I'm sure we can make it appear that way, can't we, Jack darling? That might even give us the opportunity to remove one or two of those dangerous men, too; I cannot imagine their bosses would like them going around murdering their girlfriends, even the most casual ones. I expect that would earn us a nice bonus, don't you?"

Her smile was delightful, one that would have enchanted more than one man. In fact, it had enchanted many, but perhaps none more than Jack Grim.

He pulled her down into his warm arms. "There is a saying, you know. 'For every Jack, there is a Jill.' I never quite believed that before I met you, Margaret, but now I do. If ever there was a 'Jill' for me, it just has to be you."

And if the sofa wasn't very large, it was large enough, especially for how they intended to use it.

Later, watching him sleep, she thought how right her mother had been to urge her to leave their small town, spread her wings. And while her mother had also warned her not to repeat HER mistake, not to fall in love with a charming and loveable man who was doomed to be ever one step away from the brass ring, having to always either make-do, or else somehow fill in the gaps herself, Margaret felt she'd done quite well for herself. 

First, deciding which side was going to win this war, then finding a way to be in solid good graces with those winners afterwards. THEN, getting assigned to work with Jack!

Again, she'd thought about her mother's advice, but while she HAD fallen head-over-heels in love, it had been with someone totally unlike her hapless father. Why, Jack was the nephew of a German Field Marshal, for heaven's sake, and ever so clever! Imagine, working all that time for his uncle there in Germany, though living here, of course - and no one here ever suspecting he wasn't simply Jack Grim, an unambitious but dedicated, reliable and steady sycophant for that pompous colonel he followed around like an eager puppy! 

{"My Jack - a puppy! That is SO funny! Talk about someone being dangerous - a wolf, like Linda was talking about! I'll match MY wolf against any of those others anytime!"}

Yes, partnering up with Jack was the best thing that could have happened to her! And it seemed Debbie, for all her other inanities, was right about one thing. 

{"If 'for every Jack, there's a Jill' means 'for every Jill, there's a Jack', then I've found mine. Could a girl GET any more lucky??!"}


	5. A Jill By Any Other Name

They'd trickled in one by one, Chief first, then Actor, finally Goniff. They were still missing one man, maybe two, but they figured Casino would show sooner or later, whether Garrison did or not.

Chief, being by himself, no female companion at his side but figuring he'd be the only one like that, well, other than Garrison, had snagged the big table in the corner. It was prime territory, the only one that would seat ten, and that would allow for himself plus each of the other guys and the women bound to be accompanying them with two to spare.

Yes, there'd be a space for the Warden if he showed. He probably wouldn't, unless he needed them for something, but just in case, they liked to let him know he was welcome to pull up a chair and have a drink and just hang. 

As a group they'd decided he needed them as much as they needed him, and as much as he pushed them in training and on the job, he tended to hang back otherwise unless he got a little encouragement. Of course, that was probably what an officer was supposed to do, but Garrison was different - he was THEIR officer, and Goniff argued that made it different. Well, Chief agreed, and soon the others had as well, and now they made sure there was a place at the table. 

{"He'll never be one of us, totally, maybe, but he's not one of THEM either, the fancy pants, stick-up-their-ass types. We got each other to help, listen, fight with, maybe drive each other crazy. Him? He's got a place with Ainsley and Davis and the other team leaders, sure, but they aren't around enough. Goniff's right; he needs someone and we're the best for the job. He can trust us - well, mostly."}

Soon after, Actor arrived, but alone, and they switched to a slightly smaller table. The bartender wouldn't thank them for taking up one of the prime tables where there might be others really NEEDING the space. 

Goniff bounced in, grinning, assuring them Meghada would be coming in a little while. "Got some business to take care of, some rubber-'eaded clutch to ream out over the phone. From the sound of it, might 'ave been Richards," he'd laughed.

They talked in a desultory manner, though Actor wasn't saying much for a change, seemed to be brooding. And Casino was really running late; it wouldn't surprise them all that much if he baled on them entirely, especially if he'd found a willing woman. They went on working on that pitcher Chief had ordered; no sense letting it get dust settling on the top waiting for their missing comrade.

Then Chief twisted in his chair, taking in the two newcomers at the entrance. 

"Looks like Pappy finally decided to show. At least HE'S not alone. Well, he's not, usually," he remarked dryly. All three of THEM were, for various reasons. 

Actor was suffering from a bad case of 'mal de Lynn', something closely akin to 'mal de mer', sea sickness, but in this case caused by a variety of reasons, in particular Garrison's sister lighting into him and ladling out a dish of her crisp opinions on him, his behavior, his recent activities, and quite a bit more. She'd pointed him in the direction of the door in no uncertain terms.

He had retreated as rapidly as he could manage, if with more than a little chagrin, and although he had his little black book in his jacket, decided he really wasn't up to female companionship quite yet. Too much female companionship was responsible for his present condition, after all - was what had caused his headache and his roiling stomach in the first place. He put it down to his distraction about the possibilities of that new job - well, both jobs - the one Garrison was leading them out on and the lovely side-job he had in mind when they were in Rome. And possibly from his indulging in too many glasses of champagne during his lazy afternoon with Lady Clara, which had also resulted in him sleeping too long between her silky sheets and making him rush to get to his evening engagement. 

Still, even he had to admit, failing to adequately bathe, failing to completely remove the lipstick, perfume and possibly other traces of his busy afternoon, BEFORE he arrived to take Lynn to dinner, had been ungentlemanly, as well as being extremely careless. Lynn Garrison was very intelligent, quite observant, had a keen sense of smell, and apparently was possessed of quite a fiery temper.

Chief was alone, no woman on his arm, but that was because he flat out wasn't in the mood. Oh, he could feel the pressure building up, knew it wouldn't be long before he'd have to go looking, but that was an uncomfortable thing. As much as he didn't want to be used, he didn't feel good about using someone in return and that's what it amounted to. Even when he forked over good hard cash for the privilege, it still seemed a little off, and if there wasn't money involved, a hell of a lot more so. 

He figured he'd wait awhile; maybe something, someone would come along on the next job. That happened sometimes, when sharing the sheets with a woman was even a part of the job. Even Garrison admitted that, did his share of what Actor described as 'gently influencing the ladies in the proper direction.' The other guys had a few less delicate terms, of course, but it happened, whatever you wanted to call it - had for each of them. And like Goniff had explained it to the Dragon, Meghada O'Donnell, those sly blue eyes striving for earnest innocence, "a man's got to do 'is patriotic duty, now don't 'e, 'Gaida? No matter 'ow distasteful that might be!" The guys still couldn't figure out why she had only snorted, had shaken her head at him indulgently, along with giving him that slightly skeptical look, not blasted the hell out of him. Most women would have, they figured; hell, that was what Casino had been planning on her doing, when he'd just 'accidentally' let it slip that time.

Goniff had kept an empty chair beside him since he knew Meghada would be joining them soon; he'd left her not all that long ago, sated and satisfied and grinning like a cat. Well, that description really fit both of them, come to think. 

Goniff now took a closer look at the slender brunette at Casino's side. "Sure she's with Casino? I mean, she seems nice enough, no doubt, 'as a nice smile but . . ." 

There was something about the young woman, something slightly familiar, but Goniff was pretty sure he'd not seen her around. He shrugged; it wasn't important, but he knew it would be interesting to hear Casino explain why he hadn't landed one of his usual long-haired, busty blondes. He hoped the safecracker would wait til the current attraction was out of earshot, but with Casino, you never could tell. Not a lick of sense, sometimes; a good guy and all, but where some things were concerned, just not too smart.

"Not his usual type, I must agree." Actor asked casually when Casino, broad smirk on his face, escorted the dark haired young woman toward their table. 

"Not so much," Chief agreed. There was no doubt she was pretty, but not built anywhere near Casino's usual 'double handsful and more' type. And she wasn't a blonde, and her hair was cut short. Though those big dark eyes were an attention-getter. 

Chief stood with the others when Casino approached. She'd nodded pleasantly as Casino handed around their names, though giving the safecracker an odd look when he introduced her as Cherry. 

"Hey, Babe! These guys don't seem to have the knack I've got for finding a nice girl; you got any friends we can fix them up with?" Casino said with a wink and a knowing smirk after getting them settled, signaled the waitress to bring them mugs to share that pitcher of beer sitting on the table. 

'Babe' looked around, not seeing any eagerness on the other men's faces at that suggestion. 

"I think your friends can find their own girls, Casino. I can't imagine them having any trouble," she said, giving them a smile.

"Aw, don't be that way, Babe," he protested laughingly, giving a sly look around at the others. "Now, Actor there, he likes the real high-toned types. Goniff seems to go for redheads. The Indian, well, don't know he has a type. Just surprise him."

'Babe' looked at each man again, this time more appraisingly. The tall one with the Italian accent had a polite smile of refusal on his face; the short blond looked a little alarmed at the whole notion of a fix-up, and considering the redhead currently heading purposefully in their direction with her eyes trained on the man, Casino's companion could understand that. As for the Indian, the one Casino had introduced as Chief - she paused, looking at him carefully, and not just at that look of discomfort on his handsome face. She looked, then looked again, but then shook her head as if shaking some errant thought away, as if it had been a pesky fly.

The redhead had joined them, been introduced, had taken her seat next to the blond Cockney. Conversation was kept light, pleasant, everyone ignoring that slight air of tension that now seemed to hover over their table. Well, everyone else ignored it; Casino was just oblivious to it.

Until the group of three laughing, boisterous men had approached, guys from Micah Davis's team. 

"Hey, guys, Meghada!" and some quick introductions involving Cherry, since everyone else seemed to know each other. A quick drink shared, then one of them, someone called Billy, glanced at his watch, drained his glass and said hurriedly, "gotta be going! Boomer's gonna be looking for us; think we're headed out later."

It probably would have ended without that tension boiling over, except for Billy turning around and adding with a laugh, "hey, Chief. Don't think Casino's anyone I'd be letting MY sister spend time with! You did WARN her about him, right? Maybe next time you're in town, Cherry, you'll let ME take you out for a drink. Chief can tell you, I'm all around a much nicer guy than Casino!""

No reply seemed needed, and there wasn't time anyway, the three being out the door and gone. Well, no one could have thought of a reply in the first place. 

Goniff glanced around the table, and groaned softly. He'd really hoped no one else had noticed what he finally had, but seems like Billy had, right off the bat. Still, this was one of his favorite watering holes and he could just see them getting banned if things were headed the way he figured they might be. "Best get ready to duck," he whispered to Meghada, preparing to do the same if it became necessary. He'd fight FOR the guys when need be, but tried not to get between them if possible.

Casino still had that puzzled 'what the hell?' look on his face, the other two men just shaking their heads at that odd misunderstanding, though Chief was getting a thoughtful look on his face. Meghada thought, once again, that Actor seemed not quite his usual self; HE was usually more observant than he was tonight, though even he was now starting to see a few flickers of light.

Meghada's eyes narrowed, checking the temperature from various directions. {"And it was going to be a such nice peaceful little evening. Craig is going to be so pissed if they rack up another big invoice for breakage or end up in the stockade!"). 

She thought about maybe quickly excusing herself, getting Cherry to join her on a trip to the ladies' room down the hall, maybe diffuse the potential bomb Billy had just dropped. How to do that, along with casually agreeing (as if she hadn't seen it before) on the strong resemblance between the young woman and the team member without having to go any farther, Meghada wasn't sure. It was going to be tricky, unless Cherry was far less intelligent than she'd seemed so far.

Too late. Casino was shrugging, "think Billy's had a few too many, whatta ya think, Chief? Anyhow, like I was saying, Cherry, maybe . . ."

That's when the brunette lost it, totally, letting out a low screech, one that had the men cringing at the fury it represented. Meghada, now, she was torn between apprehension and a feeling of female-understanding - along with a very heavy dose of amusement, of course.

The woman's hand was fast, grabbing the heavy glass beer stein and aiming it at Casino's hand that was resting curled lazily on the table. 

Luckily for the job ahead which was going to require some fancy safe-work, Goniff's hand was even faster as he grabbed for her wrist in time to, if not stop the downward impact, at least to lessen it greatly. He wrenched it away from her before she next took aim at Casino's jaw which was obviously her intention.

"Are you crazy?" Casino yelled as he snatched back his hand, shaking it to relieve the pain and oncoming numbness.

"Maybe I AM crazy," she spit at him, "but I'm not blind, you bastard!" 

She cast a fast angry look back at Chief, then glared into Casino's face. 

"My name's Chiara, Casino. Not 'Cherry', not 'Babe' - not 'Chief' either! CHIARA! You kept forgetting that, didn't you, last night! No, you called me a couple of names, including Babe, but not my own! Not even CHERRY! Maybe you called me 'Babe' so you wouldn't call me something else ALL the time? Wonder if you call ALL your women 'Babe', maybe for that same reason?! Makes it simpler, easier to keep from making a mistake? Next time, not that there's going to be a next time, not with me anyhow, you might try using a woman's actual name! I'd just stay with the other parts of the alphabet, though, away from the C's entirely, just to be safe! I know it's a little more effort, but it might be safer in the long run. And, next time - again, NOT with me! - you need to keep that hand focused on what's THERE, not grabbling around for what's NOT!"

It was amazing the number of places the guys could look, other than Casino's stunned and darkening face; they each found a likely spot and kept their eyes glued on what ever had caught their interest - the rotation of the fan overhead, that row of bottles behind the bar, anywhere but on the safecracker's mortified countenance.

Well, except they DID each keep at least a side-eye on Chiara; with that much anger rolling off her, they couldn't be sure she didn't intend something more than just flaying him with her tongue. 

But it seemed she was done as she turned and headed toward the door of the silent room. Of course, she had to make a properly dramatic exit, turning back, locking eyes with Chief and delivering one last comment. "Bye, BIG BROTHER. Good luck with the idiot! You're going to need it, I think!"

"Sheesh! She really has lost her marbles!" Casino said with a disbelieving expression on his face. "Shoulda known better; knew she wasn't my type. Not enough -" and he made a broad cupping of his hands in front of his chest - "and nuts to boot! Damn, I'm sticking with the big blondes from now on; wish there'd been one handy last night! Besides, what the hell does she have against being called 'Babe' anyhow? I call all the broads 'Babe', don't I!"

Meghada swallowed hard. It wasn't easy bringing her voice under control enough to answer that declaration, but it was obvious none of the other guys were up to speech quite yet, and Goniff WAS sending her that pleading look of desperation. She knew she'd needing to have a few discreet words with Chiara tomorrow. Hopefully that would work. Other than that temper tantrum, which Meghada thought was quite understandable, the young woman had seemed the reasonable sort.

{"You are a Dragon, born to meet challenges, no matter how difficult. Though no one ever mentioned one quite like THIS!"}. So, she drew a deep breath and hurried to fill that big dead empty silence that covered the table, making sure to use just the right shade of compassion and big-sisterly concern. Although, she admitted to herself, if this had been one of her actual born-to-her brothers rather than one she'd adopted, that big-sisterly concern would have been shown in a more exasperated voice and a sharp slap upside a thick head! 

"Yes, so you do, Casino, use 'Babe', I mean, quite a lot. Including for me, though I HAVE suggested you not do that again. I've even heard you call the guys that on occasion. Though I can see a woman perhaps taking a certain offense. Well, it does indicate you weren't listening when she told you her name, or didn't consider it an important enough detail to remember. Not that that would be the case, of course, but I can see how she might get that impression. Perhaps find it disappointing, especially if you had been on, em, intimate terms with her? Women can be SO sensitive at times, as I'm sure you know; they really DO like to know YOU know who you are, em, spending time with."

Goniff looked at her admiringly. Not everyone could do that, deliver a setdown that sounded all sympathetic and understanding and all, not even letting the bloody knife show til it was all over. Now HIM, he was more inclined to just say it. Well, not here and now - this wasn't the place, but he would be remembering her little speech, including that last part, and have a few private laughs over the look on Casino's face. {"Don't think 'e STILL understands, either w'at Chiara was saying or w'at 'Gaida just said! Funny, Actor 'as a look that's not all that far away. Wonder w'at woman 'E'S pissed off?"}. 

The look on Chief's face wasn't all that funny, though, and Goniff didn't want to poke him in a sensitive spot. After all, HE hadn't done anything; HE hadn't picked up the brunette, not noticing they looked pretty much like they COULD be brother and sister - not twins, but not so far off from that even.

A second glance, though, and he realized that whatever was showing on Chief's face, in his eyes, it wasn't what Goniff had expected - pure embarrassment if Chief had understood all Chiara was saying, or pure confusion if he didn't - even maybe just enjoyment at seeing Casino so flabbergasted. No, there was a kind of speculation, then a dawning knowledge on the Indian's face, a quiet amusement, even a flash of sheer satisfaction. 

Goniff hide a grin at that.

{"Interesting, that's w'at that is. Watching them two's like watching one of those chess games - though maybe with one trying to play the game wearing a blindfold and the other with 'is 'ands tied be'ind 'is back. Frustrating as 'ell, I imagine,"} the pickpocket thought to himself, then shrugged, looking back at the redhead at his side. He was just glad it wasn't him; he remembered those days, didn't want to repeat them.

"So, you want another drink, 'Gaida?" casting a superior look over to the still-fuming Casino. "Or maybe 'ead back to the 'otel? 'Ave to meet up with the lieutenant in the morning and the night don't 'ave all that many 'ours left," he added hopefully. Hopefully they - at least him and Meghada - would be meeting up with Craig long BEFORE morning, but that wasn't something he was going to mention here.

"Let's go. We can have another drink in the room, laddie; it'll be much more cozy. Besides, I'm sure the guys have plans of their own. Or if not, guys, I heard the New Grace Missionary Society is having a midnight meeting in Horace Square, next to that statue of Hippolyta. Reverend Smithers is giving a talk on the unreliability and uncertain nature of the female of the species. You know, all of the perils and pitfalls of associating with such. 

"I believe he is a strong proponent of avoiding all such contact, even to the point of thinking Paul was FAR too lenient in HIS advice about it being better to marry than to burn. The Reverend feels strongly that inclination toward 'burning' can be overcome by the truly determined individual; he even has an entire sub-section of his lecture, focusing on the virtues of celibacy and other alternatives to associating with the more deadly of the species. I believe he favors ice baths, among other things," she said with an innocent smile, glancing around at the faces surrounding her - Actor, still greenish and glum; Casino still confused and deeply pissed at Cherry {"or Chiara or whatever the hell her name is!"}, maybe at ALL women at the moment - Chief with that knowing look of amusement, like he was laughing like crazy on the inside but refusing to let more than a trickle show.

She didn't wait for an answer, not that it looked like one was forthcoming, {"probably contemplating those ice baths"}, and Goniff jumped up and hurried to join her. He glanced back to enjoy the looks on the faces of his team mates. Giving them one last cocky triumphant grin, he relished those stunned looks far more than he should have, probably. Well, at least HE wasn't needing to be looking for any missionary meeting or any ice baths, either. Maybe a hot shower later, if there was any hot water left by that time, but no ice baths!

The three men left at the table looked at each other, dropped their eyes to their drinks and were quiet for a minute or two.

"Do you know, I believe I will head back to the hotel as well. It has been a long and tiresome day, and I believe Craig has plans for us for tomorrow. I believe I need to think through a few details of something we might find of interest," Actor said wearily, starting to stand.

Casino snorted, "you mean . . ."

Glares and a paired "shhhhhhhhh!" stopped him. {"So, okay, this probably isn't the place to go mentioning any details, but geeze, these two need to lighten up! Between that Cherry, Sherry, what-ever-the-hell her name was, dame and these two, a guy can't have ANY laughs!"}

Casino looked over at Chief, trying to figure out if he could blame the way the evening had gone south on their wheel man. Well, it sure as hell hadn't been CASINO'S fault, had it??!

"What about you, kid? You gonna go back to the hotel like a good little boy? Or maybe go hear that old geezer drone on about the evils of cavorting around with dames and all that shit? Maybe go find yerself a nice bucket of ice to sit in? It's a little late to go finding yerself a dame and get laid." 

He took a look at his watch and groaned, "hell, it's probably even too late for ME to round up a likely dame, especially a nice chesty blonde, and that's what I'm gonna be sticking with from now on! You don't get all that weird shit from a blonde, not as long as you make sure their bust size is bigger than their IQ."

Chief shook his head at that typical Casino statement, drained his glass and started to follow Actor in standing up. 

"The first, Pappy. Besides, figure it's not me that's needing to sit in a bucket of ice. Don't seem like Chiara's interested in giving you any other solution, and, like you said, good luck with finding a hot blonde at this hour of the night. This place is about to lock it down; you don't drink up and get moving, you're gonna be stuck with that preacher guy." {"Along with the final tab!"}

Casino snorted once again, figuring he'd drain the rest of that pitcher before leaving. Hell, they wanted to walk off with another glass just waiting, that was their nevermind. HE, at least, knew how to prioritize!

"Dames! Getting all pissy! Saying I was 'grabbling around for what's not there!' Hell, I TOLD her I was okay with her tits being a little on the small size! Was I supposed to keep my hand off 'em entirely? Left me with the other free to get a little busy, didn't it? Dames are supposed to like that, right? Some dames, just can't please em!"

Chief looked down at him, shook his head at the sheer obtuseness of that lament, on SO many levels!, and together he and Actor walked to the entrance.

"Back to the hotel, Chief? Shall we walk or try to hail a taxi?" Actor inquired.

"Yeah, back to the hotel. And let's get a taxi; it'll be faster. Wanna get back so I can switch my stuff over to the far room."

That got him a questioning look, a look that was answered by a rare sly smile. "Before Casino remembers how loud it gets in the room next to Goniff and Meghada. You might wanna move your stuff too. Man, with Chiara giving him the boot, and Meghada giving him that sweet and smiling knife to the gut, I can't wait for him to start complaining in the morning about them keeping him awake all night, and "not even a dame there to help me take the edge off!" Even with that little storage room between their room and the one I have my stuff in, just enough's bound to come through to let him know SOMETHING'S going on. We get our stuff moved, unless he decides to bunk on one of the couches, he'll be STUCK."

Actor stared, and then in spite of his headache laughed. "I quite agree, Chief, and yes, I believe I too will move my belongings over. I must admit, I am in no mood to listen to the billing and cooing, or anything else, coming from their room. I may have taken care of my 'edge' earlier in the day, but still . . . ."


	6. Too Many Jills Even for THESE Jacks!

"Craig, what on earth have you done? Please, share your secret! Is it a new aftershave? A magic amulet? Have you conned your way onto the grapevine with something just too tempting for the ladies to ignore? While your admirers are perhaps not of the sort I usually seek to attract, still, the sudden attention by so MANY ladies is really quite impressive," Actor admitted with a puzzled look. 

Oh, Garrison had always had those women who cast him interested, even wistful glances, but this really WAS remarkable, no one could deny. The attention, the pursuit, the invitations - all far more than the usual. Of course, while most men might have enjoyed the attention, the team was finding it more than a little amusing that their leader was getting more and more skittish at all the coy glances, eager invitations, even the more physical advances that raised a few eyebrows. It was getting so if they saw a woman approaching, at least at HQ, Garrison was likely to take them on a sudden detour down the nearest hallway. They'd ended up in a couple real odd places too, him doing that!

Garrison ran an irritated hand through his hair, glancing around to make sure the other guys were nowhere around. 

"Don't ask me, Actor! You KNOW my own personal rule, no personal involvement with the ladies, not when any such connection could hand over a 'hostage to fate' to the enemy! It's just too dangerous, for her, for the team!"

Well, yes, that had been his rule, and he'd pretty much stuck with it, at least at the beginning of his tour with the guys. Except for a few necessary 'in the line of duty' encounters, and the too-frequent socialization required by HQ and his rank, he didn't spend much time with the ladies, and whether here or in London, certainly not anything 'up close and personal.' 

Yes, he'd come close, a few times, he had to admit, and there were a couple, maybe three times when he'd had more than he should have to drink, let down his guard, but he didn't THINK he let things get out of hand even then. Of course, his memory was a little hazy about those nights, but surely he would have REMEMBERED if it had been otherwise. Those stern warnings he'd gotten from Julie Richards and Nellie down at the pub, they'd been more about him talking too much about overly personal things when he drank too much, not about him going above the line.

And now, he could honestly say he still didn't aspire to getting up close and personal with the ladies. Yes, that was a quibble, but it was something he could hold his hand over his heart and swear 'on my honor as an officer and a gentleman'. Those he DID get up close and personal with, well, one didn't qualify in any regard, and the one you would think MIGHT would have popped him a good one at that description. The women of Clan O'Donnell did NOT necessarily consider that term a compliment!

"Yeah, Warden. Don't know as how I like the competition," growled a voice from behind, and Garrison groaned. Obviously the guys weren't as far away as he'd thought!

"You got him feeling neglected, Warden," Chief offered with a sly look over at the complaining safecracker. "He had that blonde at Canver's office all in his sights, but you walk in and she don't even see him anymore. Just starts tracking you like you're a juicy rabbit and she's a hungry fox. He had to settle for the redhead down the hall."

"A ruddy shame that was, too," Goniff sympathized from where he was lounging against the wall. "Why, that red'ead couldn't 'ave been more than maybe a C-cup, not like that blonde busting out of 'er top was. Thought you might 'ave a go, too, seeing 'ow eager she was, once Casino wandered off all pouty like. She was right disappointed, that Kathy skirt, w'en you decided you needed to go check - go check - I forget, Lieutenant, what WAS it you decided you needed to go check?"

Garrison spared a glare for that innocent and guileless look; he probably would have even if he HADN'T seen that smirk just twitching at the corner of Goniff's mouth. 

"Yeah, well, the redhead was okay, really knew how to get a guy over the top, ya know? And the blonde came around okay the next time I made it over there. But still, I don't like you cutting into my action, Warden. That uniform gives you an edge that just don't seem fair!" Casino explained.

Garrison didn't think all that complaining was really justified. After all, NONE of the guys seemed to be doing without their share of admirers these days. Even Actor was indulging outside his usual retinue of titled ladies, the assortment presented to him including a few who came quite close to those in their refinement, enough he was willing to overlook any slight disparity. 

Chief had had a few dates, not many, never the same one twice, but a lot more action than he usually came up with or even usually seemed to want.

And Goniff had been having a time, taunting Casino with the quartet of cuties who seemingly had decided their pickpocket was just 'so adorable!' That might be the last way the pickpocket would describe himself, would even appreciate being described most times; still it was useful, and while he didn't accept any serious invitations, not more than sharing a nice meal, maybe some time dancing and such before excusing himself, nothing more involved, still he was enjoying himself. Well, food, music, pleasant company; there was a lot to be said for that.

Whether he'd enjoy Meghada's reaction when the grapevine delivered its usual harvest of enhanced 'wine', he didn't know, but the Dragon was usually reasonable. Still, just as well she was off somewhere right now. Well, the other guys were out and about and he didn't see just sitting around by himself. True, if she HAD been there, he WOULDN'T have been sitting around by himself, but she wasn't - and that brought him back full circle again. Anyhow, she knew he wouldn't, not for real, not unless it was on a job - either military or one he and the guys got up to - and she did make allowances. And the Lieutenant, he knew where Goniff drew the lines, at least with games like this, so there was no real problem there.


	7. Even For Jack And Jill, It Probably Wasn't Easy

Debbie was looking worried, tending toward weepy, enough Claire pulled her aside. "You okay, hon?" Well, Claire and Linda hadn't been sure Debbie really should have been allowed to participate in this little 'Review' project. The woman might be of age, but sometimes she seemed so much younger in so many ways!

"Of course," Debbie answered, but there was a nervous tension there Claire didn't like.

"The date not go well last night? Look, Deb, it's okay if you don't want to, you know. Go out with any of them, do anything else." 

She frowned, "he didn't get nasty with you, did he? Maybe not take 'no' for an answer if you decided that's how you wanted it?" 

If that was the case, she'd be having a few words with Mr. Dean Jamieson, Special Forces, operating under the firm (or not so firm) hand of Team Leader Reynolds. 

Debbie shook her head, gave a nervous smile. "Oh, no. He's really very nice, even if he's not much for sweet words and things like that. Well, maybe he just doesn't SAY them, but he acts like he's thinking them, and that counts, doesn't it? And he was really careful with me, making sure I wanted to be there with him. And I DID, Claire. I really LIKE him. It's just - this last time. . ."

And Claire got one look at those teary eyes, and sighed, and pulled Debbie along after her. "We're going to my place and you're going to tell me all about it. Do you want me to call Margaret and Linda to come along?"

She was startled when Debbie almost panicked, protested fervently, "NO! Not Margaret! Maybe Linda, maybe, but later, not now. But yes . . . I would like to talk about it," Debbie admitted, her lips quivering.

A pot of weak tea, enhanced with a judicious splash of whiskey, brought out the whole sad story.

"He was in the shower, and I was tidying up. And there it was, this letter, poking out of his jacket. I almost didn't pick it up, open it, but I know Margaret says every little bit of information can be helpful to the other girls, so I did. Even though I wasn't sure I wanted to be 'helpful' to the other girls, not where Dean is concerned, because I really think he might be my 'Jack', you know. And - and - oh, Claire!" 

And the tears started in earnest as Claire listened grimly to the sobbing girl, one who had so quickly and so unexpectedly thought she'd found her 'Jack', only to find out said Jack had a wife waiting back in Omaha, a sweet wife who'd so lovingly poured out her results in finding 'just the perfect little cottage for Baby Dean and me to wait for you to come home.' Claire, he's MARRIED!!"

"And what did he say?" Claire asked, mouth clinched tight.

Debbie's eyes got huge. "Oh, I didn't tell him I knew! Well, how could I, without saying I'd been nosy, reading his private letter?! He caught me crying, but I said I'd slammed my finger in a drawer in the kitchen, and he didn't suspect a thing, I'm sure. Oh, Claire, what do I do now? I think I love him, but I can't! Not another girl's husband, especially with them having a baby and all!"

{"No, she couldn't, not our Debbie, though there are those who could easy enough - just put it off as a fling. She's not the fling sort, more the cottage and lace curtains and a bunch of kids running around. Damn him anyway!"}

And the word went out about Sneaky Pete, AKA Dean Jamieson!

"So, Reynolds said I needed to talk to you," Jamieson said, uncomfortably, glancing over at the tall drink of water that was his team leader. 

Garrison gave a quick, frustrated glance at his fellow team leader. Reynolds just gave a slow smile in return. Reynolds was one of the non-officer team leaders, and there were more of those than the ones like Garrison and Ainsley, ones with Lieutenant or something beside their name. Drawn from a list of 'Specialists', as it was called, he and the various others like him had the skills needed for the job but none of the interest or aptitude for dealing with military requirements for holding rank. They were a mixed bag, to say the least.

Blowing out a hard breath, Garrison gathered his wits, not as quickly as usual since the morning coffee was still in the brewing process. He'd come down early, unable to sleep, and had been ambushed by the two waiting in the car outside, just waiting for the guards to give them the okay.

{"I'll offer them a cup, as soon as it finishes. That'll serve them right, not letting me settle into my day, take care of those reports, like I intended,"} he thought, knowing just how bad his own coffee was. Well, the Sergeant Major was up in London on a project, and the guys weren't down yet, so it was his coffee or no coffee, and he tried not to face ANY morning without caffeine, even if it was the rough results of combining what the military issued under that label and his own lack of skill with the pot.

Still, Garrison HAD mentioned the unusual attention he'd been getting from the ladies, far less understandable to his mind than the increased activities his guys were seeing, and after getting a goodly amount of teasing from Ainsley and the other team leaders about him 'bragging about your sex appeal', they'd given it another thought and decided it wouldn't hurt to maybe keep their eyes peeled on the off chance there was something else going on. They'd all had a bad experience with such things.

"And then, I asked her out again, and she wouldn't even talk to me, started tearing up," Jamieson admitted. "I finally back her into a corner, and she admits she 'knows all about Louise and Baby Dean and the cottage and everything!' and she really starts crying then. Hell, what was I supposed to do? At the beginning, I thought she'd totally lost it! I mean, what the hell???"

He took a long drag off his cigarette, nodded as Garrison handed over a cup of odd-smelling brew, took a preliminary gulp. Choking, staring at the cup in shock, Jamieson looked at Reynolds questioningly, getting a knowing smirk in return. He noted Reynolds was approaching that cup very warily, sipping, certainly not taking a full swallow. {"Gggkkk!"}

Garrison sighed, sipped at his own cup, not reacting so much since he was pretty well used to what his coffee pot turned out.

"So - Louise? Baby Dean?" he prodded.

"Then I remembered. Bentley, don't know if you know him - he's regular army, but we go back a long way - my best friend in school and then afterwards he married my sister Louise. Their kid comes along, they named him after me. Bentley got bunged up, landed in the Med Unit; got splashed with some stuff and they have his eyes bandaged for now. I was visiting him and he'd gotten a letter from Louise, all about their kid and this house she'd found and stuff like that. He hadn't read it - well, he couldn't, could he? And I was the first one to come by he trusted enough with it. I had a date with Debbie that night, didn't realize til the next morning that I still had the letter in my pocket. Yeah, she'd been crying when I left, but she said she'd slammed her finger. I couldn't see any marks, but she's the sensitive type, so I just - " and he stopped, blushed to remember how he'd offered to 'kiss it to make it feel better, sweetheart'. No, he was a big tough fighting man; he wasn't going to admit a sappy thing like that! 

"Next day, I realize I've still got the letter, cuss a little knowing I've got to make another trip by the Med Unit to get it back to Bentley before he has a cow. Then, it all fell into place. And then when I started getting the stink eye from some of the women at HQ, when I hear one talking about 'married men who think to have their cake and eat it too!', I knew the word had gotten around."

Reynolds drained the last of the coffee, manfully not grimacing as he did so. "And that's where I come in. I'd told the guys to look for anything a little off. Guess we got lucky; some of my guys are just enjoying all the action, putting it all down to their overwhelming charm or something, not paying all that much attention even if I DID tell them to be careful. Jamieson here, though, he's stuck pretty much with this Debbie," casting a knowing look over at his SIC. 

Jamieson was as much of a hound as some of his other guys, at least he always had been, but since he'd gone on that first date with Debbie, not so much. Now, it had looked like they were pretty much a steady thing, her being the only one Reynolds had seen him with.

Garrison sat back, silent, letting things fall into place in his mind. "I think maybe we need to have a talk with this Debbie," finally looking at the other two. Jamieson didn't look any too happy about that, but then, he hadn't looked any too happy since Garrison had glanced up to find the two at his office door.

"Think they'll work it out?" Goniff asked, inhaling a deep dose of that cigarette. "I mean, she seems stuck on 'im, even if she was snooping, wouldn't 'ave been that upset if she wasn't. And 'e couldn't take 'is eyes off 'er. You could see it was all 'e could manage not to go wrap 'is arms around 'er when she started crying."

Garrison shook his head, "I don't know. Trust is important in a relationship, and she betrayed his by reading that letter, by sharing the contents with anyone else. Never mind her intentions."

Goniff gave him a wry look, that raised brow acting as a quiet reminder of things unsaid, good intentions gone awry and probably a lot more.

Garrison flushed, reading what was behind that look. Yes, trust was important - no one knew that better than Garrison did. But sometimes, you screwed up, for whatever reason; came close to losing something, SOMEONE, important because of that. If you were lucky, and he knew he'd been one of the lucky ones, the other person was the forgiving type, and it could still work out okay. Maybe it would be that way for Jamieson and his Debbie.

But as for as what lay beneath the surface, that was a different story. Maybe it HAD just been a game, some innocent (or maybe not totally innocent, but at least not nefarious) snooping on the guys of Special Forces, Special Ops, plans made while a small group of ladies overindulged not just their lustful thoughts but their imaginations as well. Whatever, Garrison was going to get to the bottom of it before it really turned nasty. 

And maybe, just maybe, his guys could be of some help. Asking Casino to respond agreeably to any new offers coming his way, just keeping a careful, if inconspicious, eye out for anything suspicious? That shouldn't be too hard, though convincing the man that there might be something at work other than - {"how did Reynolds put it? His 'overwhelming charm', that's right."} - yeah, that would be the hard part.

Even Actor would play along. Hell, with ALL of his guys, they all would cooperate, especially when he'd emphasize that this was just like on a mission. Of course, this being London, that could make the aftermath a little tricky, but still, for now he could expect their cooperation. He'd be sure to deliver a few stern words of caution. Even if this turned out to be something more or less innocent, just the usual Jack and Jill type of manoeuvering, there were other possible consequences, none of which he wanted to have to deal with. As far as he was concerned, he'd maybe have to play along too, though he'd prefer not. He'd worked hard to build that 'not available' reputation; it would be a shame to ruin it all now, have to start all over again.

{"But if I have to - now what would be my professed motivation for going back to my old ways? It would have to be something believable? Disillusionment? Maybe I could convince Richards to openly and publicly give me a stern set-down about tending to business? Certainly not a 'broken heart'!"}. 

He shuddered at the thought. He'd seen what could happen there. It seems few things motivated some women more than the sight of a man needing to 'get over' another women. {"I'd probably see the trailing crowd double if I wasn't careful! The guys would die laughing, though Goniff might get a little ticked. Though I bet he could get Meghada to deal with the crowd quickly enough! I might have to fall back on that anyway before this is over."}


	8. Jacks Versus Jills

Casino groaned, leaning his head back against the rumbling wall of the plane after their hasty takeoff on that impromptu assignment.

"Sheesh, Warden! We couldn't've put this off for a few days??! Had Miranda lined up for tonight, or maybe Mirabelle. Whichever. Anyhow, the broad from Statistics that wears her jumper a couple sizes too small. And Colleen for tomorrow night! Damn, I know she's not a blonde, but she's got staying power, I'll give her that! Kept up with me the whole way last time!"

Garrison gave Casino a skeptical look. "Just those two, Casino? I'd have thought you'd be booked up for the next week." His voice was raised to be heard over the roar of the engines.

"Yeah, well, figured maybe after Colleen I'd better rest up a night or two before I start accepting invitations again," the safecracker admitted, inspecting that piece of spring wire he wore tucked in behind his jaw teeth.

"Aw, w'at's the matter, Casino?" Goniff asked sweetly. "That last batch of vitamin tonic you got from Mrs. Wilson not doing the trick? May 'ave to ask 'er for something stronger. Likely she didn't intend for you to be trying to wear the ruddy thing off all at once. Bet she 'as something you could use to sort of, em, perk things up a bit." 

That grin wasn't sweet, it was totally wicked, but it WAS totally Goniff.

"And what about you?" Casino barked. "You holding up okay, Limey? No strain there, at all? Seems you been getting a workout too."

Goniff HAD been kept pretty busy, there was no question about that but he hadn't done much bitching about it, just went around with that cat-in-the-creampot smile most of the time, since this was now officially 'business', just like with any other mission. Well, other than moaning and groaning about having to tackle the obstacle course in case it would slow him down a little in his 'additional duties'.

"Don't seem like Goniff's had any trouble keeping up the pace, Pappy. Maybe he's right; maybe you need something stronger than what Mrs. Wilson delivered. It's just fine for me, but then I'm no match for you. Course, like Goniff said, I'm not trying to wear it off; figure I'll need it later. You might want to think about that too; there's some things Mrs Wilson might not have a fix for."

Casino glared, searching for the right words to that putdown, but not coming up with any that wouldn't get him tossed out of the plane - probably without a parachute.

Actor just hummed contentedly as he noted that signal from the pilot. Reaching up to start hooking up for the drop, he informed them, although no one had actually asked, that he too was doing just fine.

"I am not finding it a strain either, but then my choice of ladies is possibly responsible for that. After all, a lady of quality, or one approaching that, prefers quality, finesse, a certain educated understanding of a woman's needs, even beyond the mere going through of the physical motions. I am doing quite well, you understand, and my stamina is in no danger of being stressed any more than my other attributes. What about you, Craig? Showing any signs of wear and tear?"

Garrison ignored that question and merely glanced down at the ground below. "Alright, cut the yakking and hook up. We're out in thirty seconds - Chief, you're first. Keep an eye out for that landmark Intel said we 'couldn't miss'." That last was noted with some skepticism, Intel having a remarkable record for screwing things up, at least with them.

It was a relatively simple operation, no stress on any of them. Well, yes, there had been a couple of safes, fairly complicated ones too, that Casino had to work through. And a wild ride through the countryside with outraged not-sure-which-side-they-were-on partisans chasing them. And a trip up the side of a building and quite a bit of fast finger work from their pickpocket, along with Garrison and Actor pulling off a tricky con that had them all sweating. 

Still, there had been no women involved, and frankly, none of the men, not even Casino or Actor, could find anything in that to regret. 

On the exit, Goniff had earned a quick slap in his direction at his cheery "well, back to the old grind. Let's see, there's Chrissy and Jessica, and Doris, not to forget Claire. No, no, mustn't forget Claire! 'Ave a feeling Claire aint gonna be one I'm able to forget any time soon; coo,'ave you seen those lovely long legs of 'ers??! Don't expect me on the obstacle course for a few days after, though, Lieutenant. A man can only 'andle so much, you know, even me," giving Garrison a cheeky grin. And surprisingly enough, that slap in his direction had come from Garrison, though Casino was only a second or two behind. 

But it was Chief who took the wind out of the pickpocket's sails, with his casual "wasn't Meghada due back by this time, Goniff? Expect she's gotten an earful, what with the grapevine and all. Expect he's right, though, Warden, about him not being up to the obstacle course for awhile. Figure after the Dragon gets finished with him, one way or the other," giving Goniff an amused look, "he IS going to be hobbling."

Goniff's face turned thoughtful, then apprehensive, and he suddenly didn't have a lot to say, though everyone else sure did.

On the way back, though, Goniff pulled their leader to one side and quietly told Garrison, "might not be me, but SOMEONE needs to spend time with Claire. There's something off; not sure w'at, but she watches too close for it to just be casual, and no, it ain't that she's got it bad for me, I promise. Don't send Casino, though. Once 'e gets 'is dick in gear, 'is brain shuts down, often as not. Actor, maybe. Chief already 'ad a turn; 'e's not sure of 'er either. Might be best if it were you, though. You'd be most likely to see if I'm just imagining things or not."

Garrison gave him a questioning look, wondering just how serious that suggestion was. It was one thing to accept 'doing your patriotic duty', as Goniff had been known to explain it; it was another for Goniff to be urging Garrison in the direction of a particular woman, insisting on it, in fact.

"Well, if you say so," he replied carefully, watching that face, those eyes then glint with mischief.

"Meant w'at else I said, too. Chief, 'e says she talks a lot about that country place 'er family 'as. 'Orses and all the rest, you know? Chief says 'e'd be able to pick out w'ich one was 'ers, right off the bat - it'd be the one looking all pinched in the middle. Well, those legs, you know?"

Garrison groaned. Sometimes he knew when Goniff was teasing him, sometimes he didn't. This was one of the latter times, though he imagined after he agreed to a date with Claire, he might know for sure.

And although he'd thought he would be able to avoid the experience, a new development made that less feasible, and he resigned himself to maybe having to wear his belt a notch or two tighter for the next several days.

And it turned out Goniff hadn't been teasing, not in any regard. Yes, those legs were an experience. And yes, the woman was watching, too carefully; asking a subtle question, here and there; giving him an opening that just might have led to a confidence being shared. 

And while the evening had been eventful, although Claire had garnered a few carefully chosen tidbits here and there, the ending was not quite what she'd imagined. Well, somehow she'd guessed that, when she roused from that lovely after-glow of a drowse to find Garrison dressed and standing by the bed, and the blond Englishman who'd bailed on THEIR date, sitting at the foot of the bed, an innocent smile on his face. Calmly, as if he spent EVERY night in her flat, perched on the end of her bed, he lit a cigarette, his blue eyes not friendly at all now, but icy cold and deliberate in the flare of the match.

And for the first time, she truly realized what Linda had meant by that description 'wolf, maybe a fox, but not a hound. Nothing as harmless as that.' 

{"No, not harmless at all!"} she thought to herself as she hastened to obey that cheerful suggestion that "sorry to 'ave to bail on you earlier, Claire. But you might want to think on answering the Lieutenant's questions now, after 'e's given you such a lovely evening and all. Not too many questions, ei, Lieutenant? Expect you've 'ad about all you are up for for one night, w'at with Claire 'ere giving you such a nice welcome and all." 

Somehow the smile from Garrison that answered that teasing sally was real enough, if somewhat reproving, but the one the lieutenant trained on her wasn't nearly so benevolent. Oddly enough, it made him look almost, if not quite, as dangerous as the Englishman.

Later, outside, Garrison nodded to the two men from Ainsley's team who'd agreed to guard duty. "She's not going to run, I don't think. She hasn't really done anything that would cause her to. But I want her kept safe while we nab the one who planned this little escapade. After what happened with Jamieson's girl, I don't want to take any chances. I already have two men on the other one of the original four, Linda Carmichael. And Debbie, but she is already in good hands, even if it almost did go wrong in that corner."

For it had only been luck that Jamieson had only been down the hall when a man, since identified as Jack Grim, minor cog in the workings of HQ, had delivered that hard blow to the young woman's forehead and then proceeded to try and strangle her. Jamieson's interference had saved Debbie's life, though Grim had managed to escape. A quick call to Reynolds, Jamieson's team leader, then to Craig Garrison, put the next wheels into motion.


	9. Jack and Jill Come Tumbling Down

Alone in her flat, Margaret pondered the current situation. It was so frustrating! First Debbie, silly little twit, falling in love with one of the men she was supposed to be gathering information on! Well, yes, Margaret understood the falling in love part, but really, where was the loyalty! SHE was the one who'd suggested they 'adopt' the newcomer, the poor clueless kid wandering around just waiting for 'life, love and romance!' to come calling.

So, Debbie had found all three. Yippee! Good for her! That all that had led to a broken heart because the guy was playing games? Not so surprising. Margaret figured it probably would have been pretty obvious, at least to anyone except Debbie. But to let him KNOW she had found out? To maybe get him asking questions before Margaret was ready to USE that information?! And for Linda not to have squashed the whole thing? 

"Next I suppose I'll find out Claire has been shooting off her mouth too! Unforgiveable, especially since the poor timing could throw off the whole plan!" she proclaimed in utter exasperation. 

"And NOW! How could he do anything that STUPID, that INCOMPETENT??! It should have been as simple as pie!"

The phone call from Jack had shaken her. She still couldn't believe Jack had botched killing that silly girl! 

She tried to make allowances for him. After all, she DID love him, but she could suddenly see herself turning into her mother - going through her life having to make allowances for the man she loved - cleaning up after him - doing the heavy lifting just because HE wasn't capable. She had tried so hard not to let that happen!

She powdered her nose, going over her options. Now it was going to hit the fan, that silly 'guide' become known, if not by everyone, at least by the higher ups who were going to be annoyed, AND by the Specials - those men who really WERE dangerous. 

A tricky situation, one she'd have to navigate very, very carefully.

One good thing, no one knew about the connection between her and Jack. Not yet anyway. So there was still time to put things in the right perspective. 

She quickly moved around the flat, getting done what she needed to before Jack arrived. It shouldn't be long; he was adamant they had to flee quickly, that she was to take only one small carry-along. She had such pretty things, she really did hate that, and she'd finally gotten the flat just the way she wanted. Of course he had promised to buy her all new when they got to Germany, but still. And she wasn't all that sure about Germany; she'd never thought about LIVING there. Did they even speak English there?

She sighed with frustration. Dear sweet Jack! How on earth had he managed to NOT kill Debbie! She was just such a stupid little girl; it should have been so easy!! If he had, that would have made things alright! Oh, if just she didn't love him so much!

Jack knocked lightly at the door, frowning at the odd way the lock tilted now. 

"Margaret?" he called cautiously. He didn't think anyone could have arrived first, but this whole day had been a series of errors on top of mistakes on top of rank disappointments.

She pulled open the door with an excited look.

"Oh, there you are, shug! Here, hold this together, will you?" handing him a small train case. "The latch never HAS worked right. I'm not taking much. You said I shouldn't, that we could buy all new when we get to wherever your uncle is sending us next, right?" she asked in a quick but breezy manner.

He nodded and assured her that, indeed, that was the case. "But we don't have to rush. We're not due at the station for another two hours; we don't want to get there early and have to stand around drawing attention," he teased with a loving smile as he drew her into his arms, picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. It WAS handy that she was still wearing just her housecoat, and the idea of what was ahead had him excited and eager.

Later, with her damp and moist and content, him relaxed and well pleased with himself, he'd eased out of the bed and got into his clothes. Looking around he shook his head in disgust. No matter her other attributes, Margaret left a bit to be desired in the neatness department. Clothes were strewn here and there, a dresser drawer hanging ajar, that lamp sitting so over the edge it would only take the least movement to send it crashing to the floor. 

It was probably best that Margaret would never meet his Uncle Gerhard, the Field Marshal; that man was neatness personified, stiff and rigid as a board. No, smart, cunning, enterprising little Margaret wouldn't be to his taste. Elsa, Jack's prim and proper wife who was waiting in Uncle Gerhard's household for his eventual triumphant return, was, on the other hand, the apple of the old man's eye, and Jack had no intention of rocking the boat by bringing Margaret into the mix. Still, he knew he would miss her in any number of ways, his sweet 'Jill'.

"Darling?" Margaret's voice coo'd from behind, and he turned, ready smile on his face. She was still in the housecoat, hair tumbled around her face. That he'd already drawn on his dark leather gloves he thought would go unnoticed, or at least she wouldn't realize his intentions until it was too late.

He quickly moved toward her with an eager laugh, reached for her with a loving smile, and only after his hands closed and tightened around her throat, only after he saw that eager brightness in her face turn to shock, then outrage, then fury, did he feel the pistol pressed at his heart. {"She must have had it hidden in the pocket of her robe,"} he thought in astonishment. {"She had it ready, she was already intending . . ."} and as his fingers convulsed around her throat, as he felt her neck snap, he heard the small sound of the pistol going off, felt the heavy blow right against his heart.

After all they'd shared, it was perhaps appropriate that their last thoughts were amazingly similar. {"For every Jack, there's a Jill."}

The now-broken lamp lay silent on the floor, the only witness to what had happened.


	10. Wondering Is Only Natural

Richards looked down at the two bodies, then raised his eyes to meet Garrison's. 

"How do you read it, Lieutenant?"

Garrison had grimaced and shrugged. "From which side, Major?" he asked dryly.

That got him an odd look, and Actor hurried to explain. "From one side, Major Richards, I suppose we were intended to believe he broke in with the intent of burglery. She was asleep, perhaps, awoke and interrupted him. He raped her, then proceeded to try and strangle her. She managed to somehow reach her pocket pistol, and although it was too late to save her own life, she managed to kill him before she died."

Richards looked around at the dresser showing items strewn here and there, the turned over and empty traveling case with an array of small valuables laying next to it, the shattered lamp, the obviously used and tangled sheets, the damaged lock on the door - yes, that was most feasible.

"And from the other side?" he asked.

Garrison looked at the bloody mess that was left of Jack Grim's chest, the shock on the dead man's face - the bulging eyes and protruding tongue, the twisted neck showing how once-pretty Margaret Smith had died.

"She invited him in for a last romantic interlude here before they made their escape. When he saw the place was a mess, she probably explained that she was hurrying to get her things packed so they could escape and had accidentally broken the lamp. He was still revved up from the try on Debbie, then his narrow escape. They made it to the bed, had sex. He got dressed, turned to urge her to hurry with her packing and found her aiming that pistol at him. He got close enough to grab her around the throat, and she fired. Before he died, he managed to kill her."

"Hmmmm. Yes, I suppose it could have been either way. Or perhaps not . . ." he said, looking at Garrison, Actor and the others of Garrison's team, a little healthy skepticism in his face.

Casino snorted, "hey, don't go looking at us! Those two, just like the old saying goes. 'For every Jack, there's a Jill', and those two were just made for each other, two peas in a pod. Ending up like this, hell, makes sense when you think about it."

Richards looked at the scene once more, then at each of the men. He might always have his doubts, but he knew he was probably better off not voicing them, to these men or to anyone else. In any case, it didn't really matter. Margaret Smith and Jack Grim were finished; the damage they had already done was past and nothing could be done about it. And any future damage - well, at least that had been prevented.

Garrison exchanged a wry glance with the others. No, they all could see the doubts, the suspicions Richards was not voicing, but in truth, they had nothing to do with this scene. Both Jack and Margaret had already been dead when they'd arrived. 

Still, as Garrison took one more look around, it WAS a brilliant setup, each detail building perfectly to set not one, but two possible, equally viable, scenarios. And not one false note in the bunch! He made careful note of the details just in case he ever needed to replicate it. Hopefully he wouldn't; it wasn't the sort of thing he wanted to be involved in, but war did drop you into situations you would rather have avoided. 

{"Claire, for example. I really would have preferred to avoid that interval with Claire. I just had to be sure, though, had to see if she'd be overly inquisitive, be digging for information. After what Debbie told us, it seemed pretty clear, but Debbie - well, she's young and inexperienced. I couldn't drop the chalk without knowing for sure, and both Goniff and Chief thought Claire might be the key. They were right. I wouldn't be surprised if they weren't right about that pinched middle on her horse too; I think I'm going to have to use some of Meghada's comfrey cream tonight!"}

"Alright guys, let's leave the Major to his work and get rolling. We're heading out in the morning - hope you feel like a little skydiving."

That got a concerted groan, but they headed out the door, Garrison bringing up the rear after giving Richards a brisk salute.

And they were gone, and Richards took a good look around before sighing and summoning the men he had waiting in the hall. {"No, I suppose I never will know, not really."}

And in the hallway, Garrison paused, looked thoughtfully at each of his cons, into each of their eyes, and let just a flicker of a doubt cross his own mind before he dismissed the notion entirely. 

"Sometimes I guess it really is true," he said with a huff of amusement at his own errant thoughts.

"What is, Craig?" Actor asked.

"Truth sometimes really IS stranger than fiction," he said, turning toward the door to head to the car.

The others stopped, looked at each other, no expression showing on any of their faces. Then they looked at their leader's disappearing back and hurried to catch up.

"Well, that is true, of course, at least in this instance," Actor said with a gracious nod of his aristocratic head, motioning the others into the car.

"That makes two old sayings come true," Chief commented as he got in behind the wheel.

"Ei, Chiefy?"

"Truth is stranger than fiction, and for every Jack, there's a Jill. Wonder how many others are true?" he pondered.

"Hell, I've had it up to here with old sayings! I'm for finding some old booze and some not-so-old dames! What say, Lieutenant? We got time to make a few stops on the way home, right??"

Everyone just stared at him, not even voicing surprise that he had any desire or energy left for 'dames' after the past couple of weeks. 

Now the booze, that sounded like a good idea even to their leader, and Garrison allowed one quick stop to pick up a bottle to take with them, to be opened only when they reached their own base. He knew he was going to need a drink or two to take that whole scene out of his mind before he tried sleeping, the scene and that faint wisp of doubt that still hovered in the distance. And there should be enough in that one bottle for all of them; no one needed to be diving out of an airplane while sporting a hangover.

And in the dorm, after lights out, Casino said in a puzzled voice, "ya know, I got the feeling maybe the two of them thought WE croaked those two!"

Snorts of amusement met that comment. It wasn't like either Garrison or Richards had really hid that thought all that well!

"Yes, well, we did not, did we, Casino. That is hardly the sort of enterprise we would be comfortable in! Imagine all the details involved and none of them truly our area of expertise," Actor reminded them. "It is always best to stay within the boundaries of your own talents and knowledge in any operation."

Goniff frowned at the darkness above, thinking rapidly. "Coulda managed it if we 'ad to, I suppose, but I don't much like the idea of killing a woman like that. With your bare 'ands and all." Then his voice got far more cheerful, "course, wouldn't 'ave been my job, most likely. Would need someone with stronger 'ands to snap 'er neck like that. Now that WAS a nice setup, but not the only way to get the same look. No, if I 'ad to take on a situation like that, I'd go a different route. Maybe start out . . ."

And they listened as he laid out a remarkably comprehensive plan that, while sparing him from snapping anyone's neck, would have accomplished the same end, the same image for those who'd come looking.

They listened, glanced over at his cot, and wondered, just a little uneasy, whether or not he was serious. They knew he'd been with Garrison at the time, at least, that had been their understanding, but there was something more than a little chilling about that cheerful voice laying out that extremely competent plan for a double-murder along with a skillfully orchestrated set of red herrings.

And Goniff swallowed down that knowing chuckle, knowing what was going through their minds, and grinned. {"Coo, sometimes they're SO easy to play! Bet they've got the same look on their faces that Richards and Craig 'ad! Funny, that's w'at THAT is! As if I WOULD! Well, not less it was really necessary."}

And he rolled over to get what sleep the rest of the night could deliver. It might not be much, but it was more than his uneasy teammates OR their leader would be managing.


	11. The Jills Left Standing

Linda and Claire were uneasy. No, they were scared silly. Well, who wouldn't have been, with everything that had happened, and now being summoned to the office of Major Kevin Richards. He wasn't known for his flexibity, any indulging of whims or fancifulness in those who reported to him. Well, no, they didn't report to him, but still, they were NOT looking forward to this interview. 

They'd both wondered if they should clean out their desks BEFORE that meeting or wait til afterwards. They'd both received their pink slips, or the equivalent, from their respective positions earlier that day, effective at day's end, after all. No charges or anything like that, just a dignified "it seems you don't quite suit what we need for the position after all."

Debbie had left her job much earlier, though they had no idea where she had gone. The last they'd seen of her, she'd come to see each of them at their desks, hugged them hard, and said a rushed 'goodbye'. All they knew was that, although she had a blackened bruise at her forehead and another at her throat, she seemed top of the moon, smelling of apple blossoms and wearing a plain gold wedding band. She'd disappeared in the company of that man, Jamieson, one they recognized as being one of the Special Forces teams, and she was gone.

As for Margaret, well - the less said there, the better. It had been hushed up, and even the grapevine was remaining silent as to the specifics, but they knew she was dead and some man along with her.

They were ushered in by a private who ventured no small talk, just acknowledged their presence, flipped the intercom to report carefully, "Miss Carmichael and Miss Johansen, Major Richards."

They'd gone in as directed, silently taken the seats the major had directed them to with one stern pointing of his finger.

They waited while the officer glanced through the two files open on his desk. THEIR files, they both realized.

Finally he sighed. "So, Miss Carmichael, Miss Johansen. It appears you have been quite busy. I have been reading the reports with considerable interest. Lieutenant Garrison and Lieutenant Reynolds were particularly detailed in their assessment."

That didn't seem to call for a response, so they just sat quietly while he looked at them, first one then the other. {"He has the coldest eyes - silvery blue, silver grey? I don't know which but you could ice down fish with that level of cold,"} Linda thought with a shiver.

Finally, his inspection apparently complete, he sighed and glanced back down at the files. "I understand you have both received and acknowledged your dismissal from your positions. Your duties end today?" That came with a raised brow, which DID seem to need a response, and he got a low, "yes sir" from each of them.

"It occurs to me - well, actually, it was suggested to me - you have both shown a remarkable aptitude for observation, for assessing strengths and weaknesses in others. Well, other than your being misled by Miss Smith into venturing into areas best left alone, but you certainly were not the only ones she was able to fool. That is an uncommon skill, you know, what you've shown, no matter how frivolous the purpose to which you put that skill."

And then unbelieveably, with a smile, still slightly aloof, but far more human, warmer certainly than any they'd seen him wear before, he stunned the pair of them. 

"How would you ladies like to work for me? Perhaps not in the field, though that is a possibility depending on how you perform in training, but if not for me, there are other arenas, other affiliated organizations who could use your talents. I have some other, well, I won't say 'ladies', considering how much they dislike being referred to in such a manner, but other females, who could perhaps tell you more, answer any questions you might have. They will also be assessing whether you have what is required for such an operation. Please, feel free to ask them anything, though understand there are areas they might elect not to expand upon. You can let me know what you decide afterwards."

And he bent his head forward, tabbed that button on the intercom, "Jeffrey, will you send in the others, please?" 

And the door opened and three women walked in, so much alike it would have been difficult to tell them apart except perhaps for one being slightly younger.

"Miss Carmichael, Miss Johansen, the O'Donnell sisters - Meghada, Ciena, Coura. I'll leave you to get better acquainted, shall I?" and with a wry and knowing smile, he was gone.

He had a feeling he was going to end up with two more strings to his bow very shortly. Tallying the scoresheet, he thought, {"down two fairly minor staff - well, four, really. But since two of those lost were German agents, that's really a plus. And gaining two obviously talented recruits to the operation could be nothing less than desirable. All in all, not bad."}


End file.
